But to his utter dismay, it held fast to the deepening gorge until the
end.
Like a nightmare Kalus' felt his fears surround him, and all hope and
safety slip behind. The walls at either hand became too steep to climb.
His messenger and guide, who for its own sake he dared not abandon,
refused to heed his warnings. The shadows grew deeper, and up ahead he
began to describe, half in fearful imagination, half in stark reality,
the outline of the darkest shadow that yet lived in all the Valley.
Like a hole broken in the side of some ancient subterranean dungeon,
straight ahead of him, larger than natural life, he saw the yawning
blackness of the Commodores' cave. Only once before, as an
adolescent, had he observed it, from the high western wall. And when
the side-winding, forty foot reptile had sauntered out, tasting the hot
summer air with its tongue, he had run like the fleetest antelope,
oblivious to the singular (and dangerous) spectacle he made, his one
desire to be as far from the killing serpent as possible. His more
recent encounter had only galvanized his fears.
Yet here he was, after years of struggle on the brink of a personal
victory, with love and hope in sight, being drawn irresistibly to the
one place above all others that he was loathe to go.
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